


First Love

by luciblue



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Gap Filler, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-22
Updated: 2005-02-22
Packaged: 2018-12-27 06:25:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12075357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciblue/pseuds/luciblue
Summary: Brian and Justin have sex for the first time after the bashing.





	First Love

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

No one in your life has scared you more than he has. You’ve seen club kids [and Theodore] collapse of overdoses, you’ve been tested for AIDS and STDs countless times, you’ve been close to death, you’ve watched your mother get beaten, hell! You’ve been beaten within inches of your life! And still, nobody manages to scare you more than this kid has. But you’ve never felt so alive in your life. 

You pad over from the kitchen where you were futzing around to the bedroom, and find that he’s woken up. He’s there in his long sleeved olive t-shirt and a pair of gray shorts, remnants of what he wore to Gus’ first birthday party. 

Gus’ first birthday. It was there that Justin saw the bat and recalled everything. You took him home and gently put him to bed, caring for him as if you had loved him all your life. When you return to the bedroom, he’s sleepy-eyed and looking at you, like he wants something. But what is it? You’re looking back at him, thinking he’s so innocent, and you remember that his innocence been stolen. By a fucking bat, and he can’t ever get it back.

“Better now?” you ask.

“Mhmm.” A quiet reply.

You walk over to the edge of the bed and sit down on it. You bend down to remove your shoes and find that he’s still staring at you. It’s quite hard for you to speak your mind, but your thoughts are pressing at your insides, bursting at the seams, and if you don’t speak, you fear you might explode.

“You really freaked me out.”

“You?” he asks. Yes, even you. You continue with the honesty, because you simply can’t hold the pain in any longer. 

“It was like…you got hit all over again.” You felt like you were hit, too. 

“I remembered walking away and… suddenly hearing your voice call my name…to warn me. You never told me about that. You tried to save me.” He remembered. And you! You most likely blocked it out, like you’ve blocked out everything else in your life. You tried to forget because you failed.

“Guess I forgot.” You reply. This, of course, is a lie you know. You never really forgot, as hard as you tried, even though it’s as if a knife is driven through your heart every time you think about it. 

He draws himself closer, and you can feel the heat radiating off of him and his breath hitting your cheek.

“It’s a good thing one of us remembered,” He continues, and moves closer still. He kisses you, slowly and softly. There’s no hesitation. You suddenly sense what he wants.

As he unbuttons your shirt, he sees the scarf. While pulling it out, he glances at it questioningly and looks up at your face.. It’s almost as if he’s pulling the truth out of you, in all its length and grandeur tarnished with tragedy, like your scarf is with blood. You feel completely exposed. You don’t care, though. Not tonight, you don’t. He suddenly knows how much you care, all has been revealed. Suddenly, the aplomb of Brian Kinney leaves the building. You look away, almost embarrassed that you're actually fucking showing yourself; the fortress moat has been safely crossed and the door to the castle has been knocked down. By him. That twink you picked up under a streetlight. He’s not that boy anymore, though.

He lets the scarf fall and moves even closer, putting his hand on your thigh. 

“I want you inside me.” He whispers delicately, and the sound caresses all your senses It goes straight to your cock. Normally you’d assault the boy and fuck him senseless, but you can’t let your cock rule your head this time. You have to be careful. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. Just…take it easy.” He sounds even more timid and nervous than that memorable night moons ago.

“Like the first time?” Your mind rushes back to the first time you entered him, and how good it felt. And here you are, a whole year later. You’re about to go through another first.

He slides your shirt off your shoulders, he’d been furtively unbuttoning it while you two quietly spoke. He runs his hand along your back and you are filled with excitement and anticipation. You’re unable to recall the last time that you made out with someone for what felt like eternity, until you desperately needed to fuck. But you take your time with him, because if you go about this in the wrong manner, you might fuck him up for good. You continue to kiss him tenderly, holding his face and running your hands down his back, exploring his mouth with your tongue—he’s actually let you inside in at least one form—and stripping down to almost nothing while you express your passion for each other.

While kissing you, he goes to remove his underwear, and you hastily pull yours off before he even begins. It’s been months since you’ve been inside him, and you’ve missed it like you’ve never missed anything else before in your life. You’ve allowed yourself to miss it because you can’t help it. And you’re tired of trying to deny it.

You consider how to fuck him. Remembering it’s not just a fuck this time (you can’t believe you’ve actually let that happen, what happened to a minimum amount of bullshit and a maximum amount of pleasure?), giving it to him while he’s on all fours is out of the question. Having him ride you wouldn’t work because it’s too deep and he needs to be lead, and missionary gives you the chance to be too forceful. Having him on his side would be best, and the fact that you can cradle him corroborates that idea. 

Positioning him so that he’s on his side, you hold him in your arms and press your naked cock to his ass and listen to him gasp. You stroke your hand on his cheek, and breathe hotly into his ear, feeling him shiver. You trail your hand down his back, over his ass, following over to his cock. Feeling how hard he is, you realize how good he feels, and that nobody really compares, as hard as you try to convince yourself the of opposite. You run your hand up his chest and graze his nipples. He bites his lip. He seems virginal once again, and you feel as though you have a ray of Sunshine in your arms, glowing and radiating heat, along with a vast array of complicated emotions that you’ve always been too afraid to feel. 

You want to fuck him bareback, give him all of you at once, because you know he deserves it and you know it’s what he fantasizes of when he jerks off, but you suddenly remember how unfair that would be to him, especially since you know you’ve been tricking and you haven’t had an AIDS test in a while.

So you crawl over to the bowl on the nightstand and grab a condom and the lubricant. Covering you cock, you wonder what he’s thinking. He’s probably afraid, so you figure it’s best to talk him through the whole thing. 

“I’m going to lube you up now, and it’ll be cold.”

“I know…” is his stiff reply. He’s like a deer in the headlights now, hesitation has returned; he has no idea what to do. It’s like he was robbed of everything he used to know, everything that he had been taught and experienced last year. He might’ve been confident an hour ago, but this is where the real test comes.

He gasps at the cold lubricant, of which you apply liberally to make the entrance easy. You line yourself up with him. Positioning your cock at his hole, you heed his sensitivity and warn yourself to slow down.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” you breathe. 

“Y-yes…” the words tumble out of his mouth. He’s so apprehensive, frozen and you feel him trembling a bit. You want to melt him the way he’s melted you.

You grasp him in your arms and whisper to him that it’ll be all right. You don’t tell him you love him because you simply haven’t yet the capacity for it. You soon, however, know you won’t be able to hide how you feel, but for now you show him the only way you can. As you enter him slowly, he breathes in sharply, and your heart swells on the inside. 

Easing in inch by inch, you feel his resistance, like the way you’ve resisted him in the past. He starts to whimper.

“Shhh… Justin, let me in. Relax…”

Feeling him relax, you push in a bit more, and feel his small pucker pull you in. You two are like magnets that are drawn to each other. When you are finally buried to the hilt inside his small body, you hold him and rock with him a little. As you kiss his shoulders and his neck, you become one with him, a feeling you’ve never really cared for before. Moving his head backwards, he grasps your head with his hand and kisses you deeply. He breathes out heavily, and you hope to God that all the fond memories of sex will come flooding back to his overcrowded mind.

It feels so right. And you don’t want to stop. Not ever.

You pull out the slightest bit and push back in, reveling in the fact that he’s finally let you inside, letting you claim him as yours once again. He never really belonged to anyone else, after all. After you thrust ever so slowly for a few times, you feel him push back on your cock, sending a warm pulse through your body. Moving down to kiss his neck, you keep your hand firmly planted on his hip, as he runs his hand down your thigh, and you relish his touch. Your eyes are on him the entire time, watching him in all of his open-mouthed glory in a sea of ecstasies. But he’s not drowning in them, no. He’s floating. He looks like he’s lost in the intimacy, but truly he’s not—he has a clear-cut path ahead of him and he’s certain where to travel. He’s following you. You feel your chest sliding against his back and you indulge in the heat spreading between two bodies.

You pick up speed desiring more friction, but only a little, and you hear his heavy breathing and moaning. He lifts his hand up to run his fingers through your hair. He grips the sheets tightly, which are messily laid around the two of you, and you think that’s how they’d be if someone chose to paint you this way. You’ve already painted an everlasting picture inside your head, anyway. 

This is the longest period of time you’ve ever had sex before, and it feels amazing, drawing out your orgasm for more than 15 minutes. It’s been a little more than 30 since you’ve entered him. You’ve always wanted to make it last and you never could, but here you are, allowing it to happen. Amidst the euphony of the sounds you elicit from each other, you think how it feels so good to open him, because really, he’s opening you mercilessly, because he has no idea he’s doing so.

When you feel yourself getting close, you move to stroke his cock gently, and he moves his hand to cover yours. You become wrapped up this amazing dual effort to push yourselves over the edge. Pressing in deeply as you possibly can, you remind him the joys of the prostate, and you hear him louder than before.

“Oh God, Brian!”

“Justin…Justin…” you answer his call back, faintly. 

He comes, his small hole clamping down on your cock and you shoot harder and faster than you ever have before. The best orgasm you’ve ever had in your life. And would you ever doubt that it’s with him? Never. 

You pull out of him slowly and gently as possible as he braces himself against the mattress, as you have to because you’ve used a condom. If you hadn’t you would’ve stayed there until he fell asleep. You probably would’ve fell asleep inside of him, too. But you’re tired yourself because you’ve just had the longest most draining and fulfilling sexual experience of your life. It’s a good thing you didn’t go out in a blaze of glory last year, or look at what you would’ve missed. Acknowledging the thought for the second time—you’ve never felt so alive in your life, or so thankful to be so. You move your bodies so that you’re laying lengthwise on the bed, heads on pillows, and you spoon behind him. Your message is clear: you are safe with me. Minutes later, you feel him drift off to sleep. Knowing that he’s safe, but probably not, inside his own little world, you allow yourself to be captured into your mind.

You’ve never made love to anybody in your life. And for the first time, you understand what the fuck people are talking about when they speak of love. You search for answers inside your head about how you could care so much for one person. The first night with Justin was not love for you. No. But…this time, yes. This is real love, this was no casual fuck. Despite your desire to resist everything, you know it’s useless to resist him, and you’ve finally let him in. In the process of your lovemaking, Justin looked as if he had never felt so much before in his life, and you question yourself. Is it really you making him feel like nobody else has before? You, the man with supposedly no heart? You wonder if you can ever give him as much as he gives you and live up to his expectations. The conclusion you reach is that you’re not sure, but you’re more than willing to find out, which says a lot. And that is the truth.


End file.
